


Incomplete

by YdrittE



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Gen, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YdrittE/pseuds/YdrittE
Summary: She realizes that she loves spending time with him. She wants this feeling to stay.





	Incomplete

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah 3am is a good time to post this. Negativity, y'all. Beware of that.

The first time they meet he asks her if she’s angel, and she laughs at him, calls him silly. Angels are creatures of power and wisdom, not some barely-out-of-her-teens woman with bruised knuckles and dirt between her toes and a body that doesn’t work properly. Angels are complete.

And besides, _he_ ’s the one who fell out of the sky, isn’t he? Shouldn’t _he_ be the angel?

But he’s not an angel either. He’s just a young man, and once he stops thinking she’s an angel he sees the pretty girl in front of him.

 

She wishes she could say she doesn’t even know why she spends time with him. They’re obviously not looking for the same thing – at least it’s obvious to her – in whatever their acquaintance is turning into. A friendship? Or more?

And still she doesn’t shut him out just yet, keeps smiling and acting coy and offers him a flower, and he’s so delighted and thanks her so sincerely with that bright smile of his.

She realizes that she loves spending time with him. It’s so easy, so comfortable and familiar, but never _too_ serious. She wants this feeling to stay.

 

His world starts to crumble around him as he loses one person he cares about after the other, and when he comes to her crying she doesn’t hesitate when touching him, pulling him into a hug. This doesn’t have anything to do with anything. It’s comfort, and nothing more. Comfort she can do, at least.

But that’s all she can do.

And soon he will realize that.

 

She isn’t enough. Nothing she does or says can ever hide the fact that in the end she has nothing to offer, nothing she can give him that would justify him staying. It’s been so long since she’s felt this emotionally connected to another person.

She stands there with empty hands and doesn’t know what to do, terrified of losing him but equally terrified of what it would take to make him stay.

 

It begins to creep into their conversations slowly, as she realizes that she’s getting closer to a point where she won’t be able to follow his lead anymore, the point where she’ll inevitably have to step back and regain the distance to protect herself.

The little innuendoes and flirty remarks come less easily, less naturally, and he _notices_. He starts looking closer, and finds behind the façade she so expertly hides behind a tease, uncomfortable with the things she insinuates. One who chooses her words with the utmost care because all words have several meanings and handpicking the right one for each conversation she has is an endless struggle.

He reaches out and asks if she’s okay, and she doesn’t want to lie to him. But hasn’t she been lying to him all along?

 

They spend less and less time together. She doesn’t answer calls, doesn’t respond to messages. She doesn’t go tend to her flowers in fear that he might decide to come visit. He reacts confused by her sudden shift in mood, probably wondering what he did wrong.

He didn’t do anything wrong.

It’s not his fault she’s broken.

 

He’s sitting on the steps of the church when she gets there, head in his hands and shoulders slumped. She stops dead in her tracks, and for a second contemplates turning around and running. But before she can make a decision he looks up, and smiles tiredly at her.

She approaches hesitantly. He pats on the stone beside him, inviting her to sit down. She does.

He lets out a long sigh.

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

 

They’re the most difficult words she’s ever had to choose, because how can she explain something she herself doesn’t fully understand half the time? How can she tell him that she likes him for what he is and hates him for what he is and none of it is his fault?

How can she explain that she feels broken without him reassuring her that she’s not?

She _knows_ she’s not broken.

And she _knows_ there’s a word for it, she knows she knows _she knows_ but that doesn’t change the fact that something is missing and she isn’t sure what but it’s important and she _wants_ it. And at the same time she _doesn’t_ because the mere thought makes her want to curl up somewhere where no one will ever find her, where no one will ever lay eyes upon her again.

She wants to want this, she really does. But something inside her is always yelling _stop_.

It’s the concept of not wanting anything at all, and at the same time wishing you were able to want this thing that all the people around you seem to want.

The fact that she’s feeling guilty and broken and false because she leads him on even though she knows she can’t give him what she thinks he wants. It’s what everybody wants.

The thing that everybody naturally wants.

It’s all completely natural.

Just like it’s natural to _not_ want it, but nobody ever mentions that part, and convincing yourself of it is never as easy as it sounds.

 

He listens, without interrupting, and when she’s finally run out of words he pulls her into a hug that doesn’t mean anything, that is comfort and nothing more. The only kind of hug for her.

He speaks softly, and tells her that it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need her to break herself to pieces for him. He’d never ask that of her. He’ll spend time with her if she’s comfortable with it, and get to know her as well as she will let him.

He won’t hurt her.

He never would.

And she believes him.

 

It’s years later, in a ruined little village with the smoking ruin of a reactor on the horizon, that she hears his name again. She explains to her friends as best she can, but the words aren’t precise enough.

She wishes she could have kept him closer, so maybe he would have stayed.

But she doesn’t have the means to do that.

She never has, she never will.

She can never be complete.


End file.
